


4.5 Steam, Limbs, and Water

by abaranthion



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bad Puns, Bathing/Washing, Blindfolds, Dick Pics, Dogs, Guilt, Hair Washing, Handcuffs, Jealousy, M/M, Massage, Muscles, Nude Photos, Nudity, Photography, Public Nudity, Puns & Word Play, Rivalry, Rugby, Showers, Shyness, Strip Games, Stripping, Tickling, Undressing, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abaranthion/pseuds/abaranthion
Summary: Some of the Keijo team join the Jinko players in the showers after their game. More games ensue under the water.





	4.5 Steam, Limbs, and Water

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after episode 4.

The Jinko players made their way back to their changing room. Despite losing the match they were in high spirits; they’d gone up against a Kanagawa prefecture semifinalist and held their own. It boded well for the future, with three 1st years having a big impact on the game: Oharano knew exactly what he was doing, if he could pass his knowledge on to the rest of the team they’d go far; Gion was a tackling powerhouse, when he’d learnt more about rugby and his role in the team he’d be a defensive whirlwind; Iwashimizu could be the backbone of the forwards if only he’d get his head into the game from the first whistle.

They’d been joined by a few of the Keijo players, chatting on the way back to get changed. Taira was orbiting Sekizan, trying to get close, but continually being repelled by Hachioji. Ogi was animatedly chattering away to Oharano who occasionally looked up from his phone and muttered non-committal replies. Miyuki was walking ahead of Iwashimizu, talking to him proudly, turning at intervals to see the tall guy looking abashedly between him and Gion.

When they came within sight of the changing room, they all unconsciously slowed down, forming into a knot to continue their conversations, unwilling to end the enjoyment of today’s meet.

Reading the situation, Raita addressed the Keijo players, offering, ‘Why don’t you guys join us? There’s plenty of room for us all.’

Ogi nodded emphatically, his hair waving with the motion. ‘Sounds like fun,’ he said to Oharano who looked at the Keijo player’s smiling face, lowered his phone and gave the slightest nod of his head.

Miyuki leaned against Iwashimizu and announced, ‘It’ll be nice to see more of these guys. Right, Taira?’ He looked around at the assembled players – noting Iwashimizu had turned bright red – but couldn’t see his captain. He called, ‘Taira?’

Sekizan sighed heavily, drawing everyone’s attention. ‘He’s already gone inside,’ he tutted and pushed the door open to let the team and the two remaining Keijo players in, Raita in the middle of the pack unable to contain his excitement with arms quivering in anticipation.

Sekizan followed Hachioji to their adjacent lockers and threw his scrum cap onto the bench underneath. ‘We could’ve beaten them today,’ he said, pulling off his rugby shirt to reveal the taut muscles underneath, exposing how tense the captain was if his actions and tone of voice hadn’t made it abundantly clear.

Hachioji rested a calming hand on Sekizan’s bare shoulder. Smiling reassuringly into the captain’s eyes, he said, ‘It was close in the first half. If we keep on training as hard as we have, we could take anyone on.’

Sekizan relaxed and smiled back, flipping a white strand of hair out of his eye. Putting an arm around the hooker, he pulled him in and said, ‘Oh, Hachi. You’ve given me a great idea.’

Hachioji ran his hand up Sekizan’s neck and through his hair to push him playfully away.

Sekizan regained his balance and palmed his hair back into place while he watched Hachioji remove his jersey. Sekizan put his hands on his hips and said in mock-seriousness, ‘Hey, show some respect. I’m your captain.’

Hachioji crossed his arms over his wide chest, ‘You don’t need my respect. You’ve got the respect of all of these guys.’ He suddenly turned serious, the smile staying on his face, ‘Look at them all, Seki. They did so well today.’

Sekizan turned to look at his players, pride welling in his chest like an inflating balloon that was promptly burst when Taira’s inane grin filled his view.

‘Sekiz-’ Taira was interrupted and his attempted hug thwarted by Hachioji bundling him out of his and Sekizan’s space.

‘Clear off, Taira,’ Hachioji called at the Keijo vice-captain slinking away.

Taira nearly collided with Ebumi on his own path across the changing room. ‘Tch! Look where you’re going, pal.’ He glared at Taira as the Keijo hooker found a place to change where he’d still be able to see Sekizan.

Ebumi reset his expression to slightly peeved and continued walking towards Oharano who was sat on the bench, untying his laces next to Ogi doing the same. He stood directly in front of the fly-half, his shadow falling over Oharano causing him to look up with a dispassionate gaze, sightlessly placing his cleats beside him.

Ebumi looked down at his fellow blond, ‘Hey. You were pretty competent out there, fly-boy.’

Unimpressed, Oharano bent back down to whip off his socks. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered, ‘I guess.’

Ebumi became flustered. What the hell was he saying? “Competent”? Oharano had been the best player on either team. He was a marvel. A revelation. And Ebumi had just called him “fly-boy”? Ugh. What did that even mean?

His face twitching in uncertainty, Ebumi tried to soothe the situation, ‘I mean you were the best of all these losers.’ Wait, that implied Oharano was a loser too. Shit. There must be a way to redeem this and still keep his cool. ‘I just wanted to say I liked the way y-’ He was interrupted as Ogi threw his sock on the floor, grabbed Oharano’s arm and led him into the communal showers, both rushing in still wearing their jerseys and shorts.

Ogi skipped his way under the nearest showerhead, placed his hand on the small of Oharano’s back, and pulled him closer while turning the water on with the other hand.

Oharano played his fingers through the wing’s brown hair, watching the water soak through. He smiled lazily and gave a slight laugh, ‘Hnh. Your hair looks stupid.’

‘You should see yours,’ Ogi beamed, and grabbed onto the two spikes of Oharano’s hair that were now limp, waving them just above the blond’s eye-line.

Oharano closed his eyes as the water dripped into them. An impish tug on his hair made him overbalance, so he held onto Ogi’s torso just under his armpit.

Ogi flinched away from the touch with a shudder.

‘Uh-oh,’ Oharano teased, ‘don't tell me you're ticklish.’ He waggled his fingers towards the recoiling body.

‘No, I’m not. Definitely not. You just... surprised me,’ Ogi said, but his imploring look told Oharano otherwise, and the fly-half lunged towards him. ‘No-no! Please!’ He turned away, but Oharano grabbed him around the waist and tickled him at the base of his ribs.

Ogi squirmed in Oharano’s fingers, breathless laughter escaping his lips between insincere yelps of, ‘Stop! Not there! No! Enough!’ He was bent double both from the haptic reflex and from attempting to block the wandering fingers with his squirming body.

‘Oharano!’ Ogi heard someone else’s commanding voice, ‘let the drowned hedgehog breathe.’

Feeling Oharano’s fingers relax, Ogi looked up gratefully at his savior; Sekizan gave him a wry smile then left Ogi in the arms of Oharano as the captain walked over to a free showerhead, followed closely by Hachioji.

Sekizan planted his feet on the floor and stretched his back and arms as Hachioji turned the water on for them both. The captain dipped his head under the stream of water, letting it soak into his hair and run down his neck, slowly moistening his body as small rivulets spread across his skin.

Like in a hair product commercial, Sekizan flicked his white and purple locks in a liquid flourish as he stood straight, a stray hand brushing Hachioji’s leg.

The captain let his hand linger on his vice-captain’s thigh, then swept it up to rest across Hachioji’s shoulders. Sekizan looked at his partner and asked, ‘Hachi, do you wanna do my hair?’

The hooker’s eyes closed as his smile pushed the cheeks up on his delighted face. ‘Sure, Seki,’ he said and Sekizan watched him bend over to pick the shampoo bottle up off the floor.

He lingered with his ass in the air as he realized he was holding conditioner, and stretched further to grab the correct product. With that in his hand, he stood and turned to Sekizan, whose eyes – he couldn’t help but notice – lingered on his crotch.

He grabbed Sekizan’s attention as he popped the cap open. Squeezing a glob of the white liquid into his palm, Hachioji said, ‘OK. Close your eyes.’

Sekizan obeyed and leaned in closer so the shorter guy could reach. Hachioji rubbed his hands together then brought them up into Sekizan’s luscious locks, massaging his fingers against his scalp.

Sekizan felt enveloped by Hachioji.

With his eyes shut, it seemed like some form of sensory deprivation. One where all he could feel was the enclosing presence of his friend all around him: hands behind, arms on either side, his body in front.

A shared oasis just for the two.

A familiar shelter away from the commotion of the rest of the team.

A delicate shell that was shattered with a single voice.

‘Sekizan!’ Taira rushed into the shower area, slipping in standing water that brought him hurtling towards Sekizan and Hachioji. He righted himself just in time, eyes glinting as they took in the sight of Sekizan’s hair. He moved a hand towards the tresses, silencing a squee building in his throat.

Sekizan’s hand shot out and grabbed Taira’s wrist, holding it in place.

He opened his eyes to small slits and looked sidelong at the Keijo hooker. ‘Nobody else touches the hair,’ he stated and yanked the hand away.

Just then, Taira heard his name being yelled from the archway leading back to the locker room. Ebumi was standing there, shouting, ‘Hey, asshole! Look where you’re going.’

Ebumi withdrew back into the locker room where he knelt beside Gion who was splayed on the floor, rubbing his head. Ebumi proffered a hand saying, ‘Hey, are you alright, my “dear little junior”?’

Gion sniggered at Ebumi’s use of his own words from earlier as he grabbed the hand to pull himself up into a sitting position, nearly head-butting the second-year as he did so. ‘That dumb lug needs to watch his step,’ Gion complained, and added after seeing the concerned look in Ebumi’s eyes, ‘I’m fine.’

Ebumi settled back onto his haunches and tried to hide his worry behind a fixed scowl and dismissive words, ‘Tch, Taira’s only got eyes for Sekizan. You’re no more than an obstacle in his one-track mind.’

Ebumi watched Gion take off his second sock, and they both stood up together as he continued to undress. Ebumi found he was staring at the bundle of energy, so he found an excuse to keep looking by continuing to talk, ‘Speaking of one-track minds, you were a tackle-machine out there!’

Gion pulled the back of his rugby shirt up over his head, pausing to talk to Ebumi with the fabric concealing his torso as his arms held the shirt upside down from his shoulders. He smiled with his reply, ‘Thanks! I just did what you said.’

Gion dropped the shirt to the floor, revealing his torso glistening with perspiration. Ebumi moved to the side of Gion so he wouldn’t be caught staring, and put his arm over the shorter guy’s shoulders, a finger slipping into the sweaty armpit. ‘Ah, you can be my own little protégé,’ he said a little too forcefully, ‘just do exactly as I tell you and we’ll get along fine.’

Gion looked at Ebumi blankly. There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘C-can I carry on getting undressed?’ he finally asked.

‘Oh!’ Ebumi pulled his hand away and tried to maintain his nonchalance, ‘Sure. ‘course. Go ahead.’ He sauntered in front of Gion in a “don’t mind me” fashion.

Gion pulled the white shorts down to his ankles and grabbed Ebumi’s arm to keep his balance as he lifted each leg to remove the clothing. The blond started spouting words without much thought, ‘I’ll tell you about... Exercise! and... specific, er training routines to teach you techniques for tackling and- Rules! I’ll teach you the rules so you’re not gonna concede a penalty with your first tackle. But you’ve got the basics.’ When Gion released his arm to remove his red boxers, Ebumi suddenly checked himself, ‘I s’pose.’

Gion slipped his underwear off and Ebumi found himself talking again to keep his mind off the thick dick now displayed before him. ‘Yeah, the basics. Like, you ran the channels, keeping our defensive line at the edges. You had good width.’ He faltered as he glanced at the girth of Gion’s member, ‘across the field, I mean. Yeah, great width... for a newbie, anyway.’

Gion felt puffed up by the compliments, especially as they were being given by Ebumi: a notoriously sullen, insular individual. ‘I felt great out there! I wanna play again,’ he said, and scooped the clothes up into a bundle. He called across the locker room, ‘Hey, Raita! Where do you want these?’

The naked scrum-half came barreling over and knocked the clothes out of Gion’s arms saying, ‘Don’t worry about that now. It’s shower time. Come onnnnnnnnn.’ He practically sang, holding Gion’s hand and leading him into the shower area.

‘Sumiaki?’ Iwashimizu heard his name from somewhere behind him, but he was unable to turn, struggling as he was to take his eyes from Gion’s exquisitely toned back-muscles and pert butt withdrawing into the showers.

‘Sumiaki!’ Miyuki’s voice made Iwashimizu start. He turned around sheepishly as Miyuki said pointedly, ‘Something more fascinating than me?’

Iwashimizu’s face burned red. He stammered, ‘M-Miyuki, I-’

Taking pleasure from his old friend’s bashfulness, Miyuki put a hand on his hip and grinned, ‘You can make it up to me in there.’

He winked and took a couple of steps towards the entrance to the showers, then paused to look over his shoulder and say, ‘Don’t make me wait too long, OK?’ Making sure Iwashimizu had a good, lingering view of his whole body so he’d watch as Miyuki strutted away, the Keijo fly-half inwardly hoped the blond would enjoy this view more than looking at that upstart short-ass.

Ugh, and there Gion was right next to him as Miyuki entered the shower area. He turned his head overtly away and saw Oharano and Ogi under a shower, still in their rugby kits, the water soaking the clothes making them cling to their bodies, forming around the underlying muscle in a glistening skin-tight layer.

Miyuki went to a shower near the far corner, next to Sekizan and Hachioji being encroached upon by Taira. Miyuki opened the valve and watched the entrance back to the locker room through a curtain of water.

A moment later, Iwashimizu appeared under the archway, hiding his crotch with one hand and holding his elbow self-consciously with the other.

The tall guy looked around and noticed Gion close to him. With his whole upper-half blushing pink, Iwashimizu took a step closer to Gion, so Miyuki beckoned him over, waving an arm and saying, ‘Sumiaki! There’s space over here!’

Gion looked over at the familiar use of his friend’s given name. Following Miyuki’s eye-line, he turned to see Iwashimizu behind him, moving away and towards the Keijo player. He looked back to Miyuki who gave him an ostentatious wink.

Hands balling into fists, Gion clenched his jaw. He was about to take a step toward Miyuki when a hand fell on his shoulder and Raita’s voice came from behind, ‘Wow, you look really tense. Want me to give you a massage?’

Gion was too preoccupied to respond, watching Iwashimizu join his old teammate. He let Raita run his fingers across his shoulders and found himself relaxing, helped in no small part by seeing Iwashimizu walk past Miyuki and face away from him into the corner.

‘Mmmmm,’ Gion moaned, feeling Raita’s hands explore his muscular back, ‘you’re really good at this.’

The scrum-half dug his thumbs into Gion’s trap muscles, leaning in to speak quietly into his ear, ‘I like to please.’

Gion turned his head to see Raita smiling back, their foreheads nearly touching. Gion mirrored his masseur’s expression, ‘Thanks for helping me out today. I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you.’

Raita’s eyes widened, gleaming as tears formed. He moved back to adjust his hand positions, letting out a quiet ‘eep’ in the process. He let his hands slide down Gion’s back while he tried to form a coherent sentence, but feeling the firm flesh was something of a hindrance for the number 9’s synapses. ‘I like you. To... play,’ he started talking without a clear message from his brain, his thoughts racing to catch up with the words spilling from his mouth, ‘I’d give anything to... you. That you need. To play... with me. On the pitch.’

Gion didn’t seem to notice Raita’s floundering. He chuckled amiably as he said, ‘Well, you’re giving me what I need now. Juuuust a little lower. Hmmmm.’

Obeying, Raita let his hands wrap around the other’s hips and kneaded the top of the glutes, letting his fingers play along the V-lines of Gion’s front.

On the other side of the room, Miyuki looked away from Iwashimizu – who he’d been trying to coax out of his corner – and saw Gion receiving his rubdown. ‘Hey, Sumiaki,’ he cooed, ‘I think I need a massage.’

‘N-not now, Mi-Miyuki,’ Iwashimizu’s voice could barely be heard above the noise of the water, ‘Right now, I j-just need a wa... wash.’

‘But I’ve got a pain,’ Miyuki let the next words penetrate, ‘in my shoulder.’

He saw Iwashimizu tense and his head droop lower. Forcing the advantage, Miyuki pressed, ‘It still gets sore sometimes.’

Iwashimizu turned his head dolefully, still not giving eye-contact. ‘OK,’ he whispered.

He reluctantly moved his arms to his sides, easing his back into an upright position, and slowly began to turn towards the expectant Miyuki.

Noticing every slight stir in Iwashimizu’s tall frame, Gion watched like a hawk, no longer feeling Raita’s hands on his body. He saw the eager look on Miyuki’s face. This wouldn’t do.

He marched towards Miyuki and Iwashimizu.

Raita was left standing under the shower with his hands fixed in an empty groping pose, watching Gion walk away with a perfect soapy handprint on his butt. Raita brought his hands up to his face and rubbed the lather into his cheeks as he looked around the different showers at his naked teammates: next to him in the nearest corner was Kashima washing his long hair, suds from the shampoo rolling down his skin as it fell onto his body; then there was a long wall of empty showers, waiting to be occupied by some of the backs who were still undressing; in the corner were the two props, scrubbing their ample stomachs and wide chests; opposite the archway was the uneasy trio of Sekizan, Hachioji, and Taira; in the corner next to them was the other uneasy trio of Miyuki, Sekizan, and Gion, the tall blond had turned back to the wall, the other two were squaring up against each other; along the next long wall were Hyosu, Kasuga, Ise, and Kibi, all facing away, their bubble butts in a progression of enticing mounds that Raita’s eyes moved from end to end a number of times before continuing their scan around the room to the last pair.

Oharano and Ogi’s clothes were becoming semi-transparent, the pink of their skin showing through the Keijo jersey and both of their white shorts. Ogi looked down at the crotch of his shower-partner, the shape of Oharano’s dick readily apparent, lying sideways against his body as his shorts clung against its length. And what a length! Ogi could clearly see it reached to the top of Oharano’s shapely hip.

He turned his gaze back up to the fly-half’s eyes, stepping forward to place a delicate hand on his chest. Ogi leaned in to say, ‘I’ve never made a bet before, but if I had done today, I would’ve backed the winning horse.’ He let his other hand stroke Oharano’s shorts, ‘I think it’s time we let it out the stable.’

Oharano wasn’t entirely successful in coming up with a witty rejoinder, ‘Be gentle. We don’t want him to bolt.’

Playing his fingers across the fabric as he lazily moved his hand away, Ogi grabbed his own package which was clearly visible through the wet translucency of his shorts. He said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ve brought my riding tackle.’

Oharano rolled his eyes and snorted, sounding a lot more like a horse than he intended.

They both paused and looked at each other before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

Ogi noticed Oharano move his hands to take off his jersey. ‘Wait, wait. I’ve got a good one.’

Oharano continued lifting the shirt up. Through the fabric Ogi heard him say, ‘Too late. Just get undressed already.’

‘What? No more horsing around?’ Ogi tried to continue their wordplay, but was ignored by the Jinko player.

Letting the jersey fall to the wet floor, Oharano saw Ogi was still dressed, a petulant pout on his face. He waggled his fingers towards Ogi much like he’d done before the tickling. ‘Do you need me to help you?’ He teased and held onto Ogi’s shirt hem.

The Keijo player’s face lit up. He slipped down through the blond’s hands, letting the jersey be lifted from him as he rested on the floor in a crouch. Ogi said, ‘Oh, is that what we’re doing?’ as he whipped Oharano’s shorts off. The exposed dick swung like a pendulum, down to settle between Oharano’s thighs and rest on Ogi’s shoulder.

Looking up from his position at Oharano’s crotch, Ogi returned the smile in the fly-half’s eyes. Oharano muttered, ‘Looks like you’ve got a chip on your shoulder.’

Ogi rose as he replied, ‘Got any dips?’

Oharano slowly eased the other’s shorts down, saying, ‘Looks like we’ll have to make our own.’

Again they laughed at the lameness of their lines, breaking free of the moment and each other. Oharano gathered their sopping clothes into his arms and chucked them through the archway and into the changing area beyond.

The sodden pile landed at the feet of Ebumi, splashing water onto his ankles. He yelled into the shower area, ‘Hey, punks! Don’t make me come in there.’ Feeling a restraining hand on his shoulder, Ebumi turned to see the contented face of Matsuo.

The third-year opened his heavy eyelids and said, ‘Leave the first-years alone, Ebumi. They need to unwind after the game.’ He tugged at Ebumi’s shoulder to lead him to the bench where their bags were sitting side by side.

‘Tch. Lucky them,’ the blond complained gruffly, ‘that should be me in the shower.’

‘Oh?’ Matsuo looked up from untying his laces.

Ebumi flinched and ground his teeth, annoyed at the amount of times he’d said something that had been easily misconstrued since the match. ‘I mean I should have played. I could outstrip any one of them.’ He flicked his thumb dismissively towards the archway.

Matsuo leaned back against the locker after removing both shoes. Brushing hair away from his eyes he said, ‘And now you’re stuck here with me, just stripping.’ He paused to give his pun the time he felt it deserved, then said seriously, ‘You need to turn up to training, Ebumi. Sekizan won’t play you if he hasn’t seen what you’re capable of.’

Ebumi slumped onto the bench beside Matsuo, ‘He played three first-years in that game. The little guy doesn’t even know how to play!’

‘Sekizan can see Gion’s determination and potential at training, and the other two are experienced players,’ Matsuo explained.

Ebumi begrudgingly admitted, ‘Yeah, yeah. They’re pretty good.’ He started to think about some of the plays they’d produced: Gion’s wild but relentless tackling; Iwashimizu’s steadfast performance in scrums and lineouts; Oharano’s accurate kicking and aloof leadership. ‘I wanna see more of them.’

With his heavy eyelids, Matsuo’s sidelong look at Ebumi held a sultry undertone that was matched in his voice, ‘We all feel that way about our immediate underclassmen.’

For a moment, Ebumi struggled to find a way to react, but Matsuo continued before he could.

‘Of course, if you came to training you would see more of them. And hey,’ he pulled his shirt off, ‘you’d see more of me.’ He smiled lazily at Ebumi.

The blond chose to ignore the other’s intimation, hiding his face by bending to take his shoes off. ‘There’s no point,’ he said, ‘our committed captain has no idea what he’s doing.’

Matsuo stood to remove his shorts. ‘How would you know if you never turn up?’

Ebumi raised his head to see Matsuo in his boxers. He stood so his senior’s groin wouldn’t be at his eye level. ‘I don’t need to be there to see that he’s not covering the basics,’ Ebumi said. He took off his shirt and continued, ‘Gion has no idea about the rules, what positions he could play or their roles.’ The veins in his arms and chest were popping out as Ebumi’s body tensed, ‘and Sekizan let him play. The shrimp could’ve gotten hurt.’

Searching in his bag, Matsuo muttered, ‘You like him, huh?’

‘Eh?’ Ebumi hadn’t heard as he slipped out of his shorts.

With his pants in his hands, Matsuo turned to say, ‘I’ve never seen you care so much.’

Ebumi crossed his arms and turned his head to emphasize his indifference. ‘I-I don’t,’ he stumbled, ‘I just don’t wanna see any injuries for the team.’

Matsuo stepped into his pants-legs as he said, ‘If you’re so worried about the team, come to training. You could help. And when you do come, we can do some secret training together.’ He zipped up his fly.

They jostled elbows as they both fumbled in their bags before pulling out their shirts.

Ebumi said, ‘You know some special techniques?’

‘Ebumi,’ Matsuo paused in getting dressed, ‘you’ll love my techniques.’

‘OK,’ Ebumi left his shirt-buttons undone as he rolled up his sleeves, ‘I’ll come.’

‘I reckon you will,’ Matsuo looked pleased with himself, buttoning up his shirt. ‘I’ll get you sweating and gasping for air.’

Ebumi yanked his pants out of his bag, and laughed scornfully, ‘I doubt it, Matsuo. You’ll never keep up with this ass.’ He emphasized his words by turning so Matsuo saw him pull his pants over his butt.

‘You’ve still got a lot to learn, Lightning,’ Matsuo said as he put his arms in his gakuran jacket.

‘And you’re gonna teach me, huh?’ They mirrored each other, Ebumi buttoning his shirt, Matsuo his jacket.

‘If you’ll have me, I’ll teach you everything I know.’ Matsuo lifted his bag and held out his hand, ‘Deal?’

Ebumi slapped his open palm into Matsuo’s, ‘Deal.’ Then he slung his bag over his shoulder with his jacket and made for the exit.

Matsuo went to follow but turned to say, ‘Hurry up, you two,’ and then trotted to catch up with Ebumi. The rest of the team had gone into the showers or – if they hadn’t played – gone out into the outside air after changing. All of them except Noka and Sumiyoshi who were still in their training kits, chatting together on the bench. They hadn’t even heard Matsuo’s words to them.

But they did notice when the door shut behind Ebumi and Matsuo, leaving them alone in the changing room.

Sumiyoshi said, ‘Er... maybe it’s time we started getting changed?’

Noka stretched his arms over his head and yawned, ‘That seems like an awful lot of effort. I’ll only be taking those clothes off later anyway.’ He let his arm arc behind Sumiyoshi’s back.

As the hand brushed his shoulder blade, Sumiyoshi smacked Noka’s knee and said, ‘C’mon. They won’t let us on the train looking like this.’

Noka looked down at himself and then looked Sumiyoshi up and down before saying, ‘Well I think I look pretty good.’

‘And what about me?’ Sumiyoshi feigned offence.

Noka tugged at his partner’s shirt, ‘You’d look better out of that smelly jersey.’

‘Oh? So you do want to change, huh?’ Sumiyoshi asked.

‘Nah,’ Noka sighed, ‘I’m too tired. You do it for me.’

‘You can’t be tired, you didn’t even play!’

‘Aw c’mon, Michi,’ Noka slumped on the bench, then looked Sumiyoshi in the eye, ‘If you undress me, I’ll do anything you want me to.’

A wry smile spread across Sumiyoshi’s lips. He pretended to consider Noka’s offer for a moment, then said, ‘OK.’ He wrapped his arms around the lazybones’ waist to grip his shirt, and said, ‘You better keep your word, Tai.’

‘Count on it, babe,’ Noka said and puckered his lips playfully.

Sumiyoshi pulled the black shirt over his friend’s chest. ‘Oh, shut up,’ he said light-heartedly and left the jersey covering Noka’s face and arms raised above his head.

From within his shirt, Noka saw Sumiyoshi’s shadow against the material. He watched the silhouette bend down and out of sight.

He was just beginning to wonder what Sumiyoshi was up to when he felt fingers on his ankle, and a moment later the release of his shoe being pulled off and clattering on the floor. Then those same fingers ran up his thigh and tickled the back of his knee where Sumiyoshi held. With his other hand, he rolled the sock down and off Noka’s foot.

The shadow of Sumiyoshi’s head appeared again in front of the makeshift blindfold, and carried on rising past Noka’s hidden face until his view was filled with the indistinct shape of Sumiyoshi’s torso.

Noka felt the light touch of his undresser’s hands bring his own together, then the coarse fabric of what he assumed was the sock being wrapped around his wrists. A tug tightened a knot, and Noka realized his hands were tied.

‘Wh-what are y-’ he began to say.

He heard Sumiyoshi moving and then made out his face through the shirt. A finger touched Noka’s lips through the cotton. ‘Shhh,’ Sumiyoshi whispered and sank out of obscured view once more.

Noka felt a tingle of anticipation as he waited for the other’s touch.

When that touch came, it took some imagination for Noka to work out what Sumiyoshi was doing. Feeling the brush of hair on his crotch, shoulders against his thighs, and an arm on the back of his leg, Noka figured Sumiyoshi must be sitting between his legs with the back of his head against Noka’s groin, arms wrapped around his leg so Sumiyoshi could untie the laces at a more familiar angle.

The laces seemed to be giving Sumiyoshi some trouble. He was down there for a while, head rocking side to side against Noka with his efforts.

Feeling a more appreciable movement against his crotch, Noka guessed Sumiyoshi had turned to look up at him, cheek brushing his loins. He was sure of it when he heard Sumiyoshi say, ‘This is harder.’ He turned back and tried again at the laces, saying, ‘I just need to get a firm grip and it’ll come.’

Again, Noka felt the release of his shoe being removed, soon followed by his sock.

Sumiyoshi held the foot in his hand and brushed his fingers down the sole. Noka sank further into the bench, his legs tingling. Sumiyoshi knew Noka’s knees always went weak when he was touched in that way.

The caress of the fingers rounded Noka’s toes, brushed the top of his foot and travelled up his shin, over his knee, and slowly came to rest mid-thigh. Noka heard his teammate adjusting position between his legs, and then felt the weight of Sumiyoshi’s head on his thigh as it laid on the hand resting there. A gentle breeze blew softly up into Noka’s shorts as Sumiyoshi breathed onto his lap.

A stronger puff escaped Sumiyoshi’s lips as he sighed pleasurably, ‘Hmmmmm. How am I going to get those shorts off?’

Noka had a suggestion. ‘Quickly?’ he said a little more desperately than intended.

Sumiyoshi’s head quickly lifted off Noka’s leg – he’d obviously come up with a solution.

He placed his other hand on Noka’s other thigh, and lingeringly advanced both hands up towards his crotch, fingers slowly spreading across the skin. They delved below the white fabric of Noka’s shorts.

Sumiyoshi walked his fingers over Noka’s underwear, creeping towards the waistband, and lingering in the groove of the hip joint. Then Sumiyoshi turned his hands and slid his fingers out the top of the shorts and gripped onto the waistband.

Noka felt a tug on the elasticated fabric, then a pause. His teammate tugged again and the resulting pull on Noka’s butt made him realize that being sat was preventing Sumiyoshi from getting the shorts off.

Sumiyoshi released his hold on the waistband and brought his hands back inside, turning his palms onto Noka’s underwear again. The fabric stretched as he spread his touch over Noka’s hips and onto his butt, cupping each cheek by squeezing his hands between the bench and the firm flesh.

With a lifting pressure, Noka felt Sumiyoshi’s hands impelling him to stand. He allowed himself to be ushered into rising to his feet, a position in which he could feel Sumiyoshi’s hot breath even through the fabric of his shorts and underwear.

The movement had jostled the jersey down off Noka’s face, allowing him to see the changing room free from the screen of the black cotton. ‘Oh no,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ Sumiyoshi asked from his position at Noka’s groin.

Noka looked down but his view was still blocked by the shirt bunching at his neck. ‘I can see. Now I’m gonna have to look at your face,’ he feigned displeasure.

The hands slipped down, pulling the shorts with them to Noka’s ankles. He heard Sumiyoshi stand up, his face rising into unobstructed view.

Noka’s eyes were transfixed by the small pout of Sumiyoshi’s soft lips, moving with the words ‘Turn around.’

Noka followed the order to face the wall of lockers.

Enclosed in Sumiyoshi’s arms, Noka felt fingers delicately trace up his abs, over his ribs, against his nipples, and onto his chest where they met the bunched fabric of the shirt. Continuing up, they led the material on their upward journey past Noka’s face.

The shirt became an improvised blindfold once more, but Sumiyoshi carried on pulling up, tugging the collar over and off Noka’s head, allowing him to see again. The jersey was slid up Noka’s arms, past his elbows, and towards his wrists where it caught on the sock-handcuff.

Sumiyoshi tutted as he let go of the shirt, letting it fall and land on Noka’s head like a floppy hat. He strained against Noka’s back to reach the restraint still held above their heads, quickly untying the knot to free the hands from each other which allowed him to lift the shirt completely off his friend.

Noka felt a chin resting on his shoulder and breath on his ear when Sumiyoshi softly said, ‘You can lower your arms now.’

‘Are you finished?’ Noka couldn’t hide the genuine disappointment in his voice as he let his hands rest behind him on Sumiyoshi’s hip.

‘Not quite,’ Sumiyoshi replied, adding, ‘and lower.’

Noka grabbed onto the other’s ass and considered what Sumiyoshi had planned for him as to uphold their earlier agreement. His mind filling with the possibilities, he pulled Sumiyoshi closer. Feeling the other’s groin against his butt, he said, ‘Don’t do it all. Leave something for me.’

‘Oh, I will,’ Sumiyoshi promised, hugging Noka with the shirt held taut between his hands. He revealed the “anything” he had planned for Noka to fulfil: ‘You’re going to undress me.’

Noka’s shoulders dropped. ‘That’s a dirty trick,’ he whined melodramatically.

Sumiyoshi brought the shirt up to Noka’s eye level, turned his head – lips brushing Noka’s ear – and whispered, ‘Blindfolded,’ bringing the fabric towards the other’s eyes.

So Noka found himself stripped of sight once more, this time more completely as the shirt was folded on itself, stopping any light reaching his eyes. A tug against the back of his head told Noka that Sumiyoshi had tied a knot to keep the blindfold in place. Then he felt Sumiyoshi slide down through his hands, dropping to kneel on the floor.

Noka perceived that his hands were holding his friend’s head, and he couldn’t resist bringing them in to press Sumiyoshi’s face into his butt before allowing him to duck out of reach.

The clack of boots informed Noka that Sumiyoshi was moving in front of him, from where he asked, ‘Can you see anything?’

‘Nope,’ Noka replied, and grasped ahead, hoping to grab his teammate.

‘Whoa. Not like that,’ Sumiyoshi remonstrated, giving Noka’s tummy a playful – but still unexpectedly painful – prod.

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ Noka moaned.

‘Don’t kid yourself,’ Sumiyoshi’s voice came nearer, ‘you know you love being prodded in places you can’t see.’

‘Lame,’ Noka muttered but smiled at the alluded to truth.

Placing his hand on Noka’s chest, Sumiyoshi returned to his previous train of thought. ‘You can undress me,’ he explained, ‘but you have to find me first.’ The sound of his footsteps began to recede, so Noka quickly flung his arms forward in hopes of grabbing Sumiyoshi before he got too far away from him.

Right hand clattering into and bouncing off the bare skin of Sumiyoshi’s arm, Noka’s left hand found purchase in shirt material, and he managed to grab hold with his fingertips and drag the fabric and its wearer back towards him.

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ Sumiyoshi echoed Noka’s earlier sentiment.

‘If you don’t like me tugging you, just tell me to stop.’ Noka didn’t hear a reply. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said, pulling his silent partner close.

Walking his hands down Sumiyoshi’s body, Noka lowered himself into a kneeling position. His hands continued their march on the smooth leg in front of him. Gripping the thigh with one hand, Noka’s other brushed gently down the shin, tangling fingers in the laces to yank the knot loose.

The hand on Sumiyoshi’s thigh slipped down to his ankle, gathering the sock and back of the boot between thumb and forefinger and applying downward pressure to push them off the foot. Sumiyoshi rested his hands on Noka’s head to keep his balance while raising his foot to aid the removal. Once his foot was bare he shoved Noka away, causing him to fall ungracefully in a sprawl on the floor.

Noka remained on his back, listening to Sumiyoshi’s remaining piece of footwear retreating to elsewhere in the changing room. ‘You can’t get away from me, you know,’ he said as he sat up.

‘I’m counting on it,’ Sumiyoshi replied, his voice harder to hear with distance and the incessant drone of running water emanating from the shower room.

Noka fumbled his shorts off his ankles, rose to his feet, and started walking warily towards where he’d last heard Sumiyoshi, arms guardedly searching the air in front of him. He shuffled his feet as he went, encountering his teammates’ discarded clothes acting as obstacles for him to step over, feet searching for empty floor to continue their shambling progression closer to the showers.

Then his shin collided with a bench. He stifled a yelp and complained, ‘This is harder than it looks.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Noka was surprised by the closeness of Sumiyoshi’s voice and even more shocked by the hand that was suddenly placed on his tenting underwear. So shocked that he jolted back, tripping over more clothes and landing with his face in something wet. He whipped the blindfold from his face to see what it was.

Water dripping from his chin, Noka looked down to see the pile of sopping clothes Oharano had earlier thrown from his shower. ‘Oharano!’ he shouted through the archway, ‘I’m not your mom. Clear up your mess!’

‘Hunh?’ Oharano heard his name being called but didn’t really care what Noka had said; he was too busy enjoying the brushing of Ogi’s fingers through his hair.

The Keijo player was forming the blond hair into a sequence of spikes which he slicked back over Oharano’s scalp to match Ogi’s own usual style. He held the hair in place with both hands above Oharano’s head, cocking his own to the side and smiling, ‘Hello there , Mr. Porcupine.’

‘Why not “hedgehog”?’ Oharano asked.

‘Cos your spike’s so much bigger,’ Ogi replied, looking pointedly at his counterpart’s crotch.

‘Hedgehogs can still pierce my flesh,’ Oharano assured.

‘Is that a promise?’ Ogi raised his eyebrows eagerly.

Oharano clasped Ogi’s hands and brought them down to hold in front of his chest. Looking from their interlocked fingers and into Ogi’s eyes Oharano said, ‘You’ll have to wait and see. First I need to style your hair.’

It was only Oharano’s grip on his hands that stopped Ogi from flapping them in excitement. ‘Yesyesyes,’ he gibbered, ‘gimme that idiot hair!’

‘OK, OK,’ Oharano sniggered, releasing his grip on Ogi’s hands. ‘Let me just-’ he shook out his hair, spraying water from the flying strands across the wall and into Ogi’s face.

The Keijo player squinted as the spume splashed his cheek. He giggled, ‘You’re just like my dog!’

And Oharano was nearly upon him. He held Ogi’s shoulders, locked eyes, and asked earnestly, ‘You have a dog?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Ogi nodded open-mouthed, surprised at Oharano’s sudden interest, ‘he’s my tiny baby Pomeranian.’

‘Pom-?’ Oharano’s eyes glinted, ‘Your pom will have to meet my little pom: Pomekichi.’

‘Awwwahaha, our pompoms!’ Ogi grinned, ‘What’s your dinky doggy?’

‘I’ve got some photos,’ Oharano realized, ‘Hold on.’ He turned his head to the archway and shouted, ‘Noka!’

It was a moment before the muffled voice of Noka came back from the locker room, ‘Mmfff, what do you want?’

‘Bring me my phone,’ Oharano called back, ‘It’s at the top of my bag.’

‘Ugh! Fine!’ Noka’s reluctance was obvious in his voice, but a few seconds later he came into view in the archway carrying Oharano’s phone in one hand and with the other attempting to hide the tumescence in his underwear. He dashed over to the duo, shoved the phone into Oharano’s hand and stormed back out.

Effectively ignoring Noka, Oharano showed Ogi the lock screen, ‘There’s Pomekichi.’

‘Aaah, he’s so cute,’ Ogi gushed while Oharano unlocked the phone and navigated to the pictures.

‘He loves to be photographed,’ Oharano said.

‘Show me, show me,’ Ogi took the proffered phone and started swiping through the pictures while Oharano moved behind him to play with his hair. ‘Our pompoms will look so good together. We’ll have to set up a date.’

‘Mmhmm,’ Oharano was busy forming the strands in Ogi’s hair.

The pictures kept on swiping, and swiping. ‘Wow. You weren’t kidding. That’s a lot of photos of one dog.’

Oharano shrugged, ‘He loves the camera and the camera loves him.’

‘There’s something missing, though,’ Ogi said, still swiping faster and faster through the pictures.

‘Oh?’

‘There’s not enough selfies,’ Ogi turned his head and held Oharano’s, thumb and forefinger squeezing the cheeks, ‘Where’s this face, huh?’

‘Oh, err...’ Oharano started.

‘Let’s take one now,’ Ogi handed the phone back to Oharano, and got into position by putting his arm around the other’s waist.

The Jinko player rested his hand on Ogi’s shoulder and they put their heads together to look up into the camera Oharano held above them. Ogi raised his free hand to make a V sign, and the phoned clicked as Oharano took the photo.

He brought the phone between them so they could both look at the portrait image of their naked bodies shining with wetness, barely framed together top to toe on the screen, Ogi’s eyes shut with the force of his smile, the faintest trace of enjoyment on Oharano’s lips.

‘Send that to me,’ Ogi pleaded, ‘you have to send that to me.’

‘OK, I will,’ Oharano promised, ‘and then I’ll put it in the private album with all my other photos.’

‘Pr- private...’ Ogi’s eyes were wide with the imagined contents.

But Oharano didn’t see as he had turned away to shout through the archway, ‘Noka! Come get my phone.’

An exasperated grunt came from the locker room. ‘GGrrghh-Oharano!’ Noka stood under the arch, shoulders tensed, face red, ‘you better make this worth my while.’ He was naked now but concealed his crotch with some underwear in his hand. His hair was looking disheveled, and he appeared generally flustered. And Oharano could’ve sworn that wasn’t Noka’s own underwear he was holding.

He barreled over, grabbed the phone from Oharano, turned to leave and collided with Taira who was being bundled out of the shower room by Hachioji.

The Jinko hooker was gripping the wrists of his Keijo counterpart and using his stomach to drive Taira backwards. ‘You’ve gotta learn,’ Hachioji was saying, ‘when Sekizan says “no” he means “no”.’

‘B-but, but,’ Taira looked over the shoulder of Hachioji and called to the Jinko captain, ‘Sekizan! You don’t mean it, right?’

Hachioji twisted Taira’s arm to force him round and gave him one last push out through the archway, ‘Leave my...’ he faltered, ‘captain alone.’

Taira slumped his shoulders in the darkness under the arch, finally defeated.

Hachioji turned away when he saw his opposite number retreat into the locker room, followed by an anxious Noka trying to rush ahead of him.

Hachioji was halfway back to Sekizan when he heard Taira exclaiming from the locker room, ‘What’s going on here? ... Can I-’

‘Get lost, Taira!’ Hachioji recognized the voices of Noka and Sumiyoshi in unison interrupting Taira.

Glad to be rid of the Keijo vice-captain, Hachioji re-joined Sekizan under the showerhead where the captain failed to bring his gaze to Hachioji’s eyes. He eventually spoke. ‘Thanks,’ the relief was evident in his demeanor, ‘I guess I try not to show it, but that guy gives me the creeps.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Hachioji smiled reassuringly, ‘I’m your vice, it’s my job to notice these things and stop them bothering you.’

‘You are my vice,’ Sekizan said breathily, locking eyes with Hachioji, ‘in more ways than one. Anyway, I owe you.’

‘I know how you can reward me,’ Hachioji smirked, tracing a finger down the center of the captain’s torso.

Sekizan jumped back when the finger entered the thicket of his pubes. He cast about him self-consciously at the players scattered around the showers. ‘No,’ he said, took a step closer to Hachioji and whispered in his ear, ‘not here. The others are too close. Someone might see.’

The smile on Hachioji’s face couldn’t hide the hurt within as he gestured towards the group behind Sekizan and said, ‘Like them? I think they’re a little preoccupied.’

He was talking about Gion and Miyuki confronting each other while Iwashimizu tried to ignore them as he showered in the corner.

Gion growled, ‘Leave us alone and use your own damn showers.’

‘You know whose school this is, right?’ Miyuki retorted, ‘Why don’t you go back to Jinko to shower? Oh right, you don’t have any there. Your rugby facilities are the pits, I don’t know why Iwashimizu went there.’

Gion was feeling defensive and vulnerable, so went on the attack. ‘He wanted to get away from you,’ he saw the words physically hit Miyuki’s heart. He pushed the advantage, ‘Iwashimizu didn’t even want to join the rugby team. Just so he’d never see you again. He only joined ‘cos I did.’ He crossed his arms and smiled crookedly.

The soft voice of Iwashimizu cut through Gion’s misguided pride, ‘G-Gion, don’t.’

With this seeming validation from their mutual quarry, the cocky smile returned to Miyuki’s face despite tears still forming in his eyes. ‘I guess he just wanted to slum it with guys like you and the rest of your sorry excuse of a team. What does Jinko offer, anyway?’

Gion stalled while trying to think of a good comeback, ‘We train every day.’

‘Could’ve fooled me,’ Miyuki retorted.

Gion’s mind was still misfiring, ‘We’re getting better all the time.’

‘Didn’t see that out on the field,’ Miyuki was finding this all too easy.

‘Spunk,’ Gion blurted, ‘we’ve got masses of spunk.’

‘Yeah? I’d like to see your spunk,’ Miyuki stepped closer to his opposition.

‘You couldn’t handle my spunk,’ Gion lowered his fists to his sides and measured up to the Jinko player.

‘I could take you and your whole team’s spunk.’ Miyuki and Gion both noticed Iwashimizu shudder next to them.

Gion pushed his chest into Miyuki’s. Well, he tried; his nipples only reached the top of Miyuki’s abs. ‘Name the time and place,’ he said, ‘I reckon two of us could take you. Just me and Iwashimizu. Get ready to get wrecked.’

Miyuki jutted his face close to Gion’s to quietly say, ‘You and Iwashimizu, huh? I’d like to see you both come up against me.’

‘You reckon we couldn’t, is that it?’ Gion stood on tiptoes and pressed his body against Miyuki’s, ‘we’re gonna double-team you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.’

Iwashimizu exploded from the corner, ‘Stop! I-I can’t handle this.’ He’d turned to them, exposing his red face as well as a rock hard boner.

Miyuki and Gion looked up and down the blond’s body before they said simultaneously, ‘I’ll help you with that.’ They growled at each other, annoyed at their synchronization.

‘He’s mine,’ Miyuki rumbled.

‘Not if I get him first,’ Gion threatened.

The two short players dived upon Iwashimizu and they collapsed in a mess of steam, limbs, and water.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [my tumblr](https://abaranthion.tumblr.com/post/161290577183/all-out-45-steam-limbs-and-water)  
> 


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